


more than I could ever promise

by kairumption (lapmonster)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Background Chansoo, Chronic Illness, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Injury Recovery, M/M, Sickfic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/kairumption
Summary: Five times Jongin got sick/bedridden and Baekhyun took care of him; one time Baekhyun got sick and Jongin panicked.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (sickfic means fever, common cold, [canon] injuries, headaches, stomachaches, vomiting, and anxiety-induced gastritis)
> 
> this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent but mostly it’s just gay. i don’t know how credible this is, but i read somewhere that jongin sleeps in baekhyun’s bed when he’s sick, so my mind inevitably went places. parts of it come across as really tinhatty but it’s really just me being super gay about chronic illnesses and kaibaek taking care of each other ;;
> 
> this is technically 6 chapters but it's better read all in one go. titles taken from the way i am by ingrid michaelson. [also can be read on lj.](http://rumwrites.livejournal.com/3056.html)
> 
> THANK YOU FOR BETA'ING, JENNA!!!!

**_1\. if you were falling, then I would catch you_ **

 

They’re barely into their first round of “MAMA” promotions when Jongin starts feeling ill; at first it’s just a heaviness, like a nausea for the entire body. At first he chalks it up to his injury from the showcase making him dizzy, but then excess pressure comes to his head and his ears and just below his eyes and _shit_. Yeah. He’s sick.

It’s all he can do to stay upright when they finally finish the day’s schedule and he’s home, peeling his sweaty clothes off the moment he’s in the door. He doesn’t even wait to get to his room, chaotically kicking off shoes and shirking his shirt. If the other members notice something off about him, they say nothing—probably assuming sleepiness rather than the fever that’s taken his body hostage. 

He’s stripped down to his underwear when he reaches the door to what he thinks is his room, almost falling inside when he gets it open.

“Baekhyun-hyung?” He squints at the slight figure before him. “What are you doing in my room?”

Winner of the rock-paper-scissors challenge to ride shotgun in the first car home, Baekhyun is naked from the waist up stepping into pajama bottoms when Jongin barges into his shared room with Chanyeol (now curled up in bed, eyes glued to his phone). Nervously, Baekhyun tries to exchange a glance with his roommate as he hastily pulls up his pants, but Chanyeol hardly notices the intruder. He does, however, almost nod off and has to catch his phone before it lands on his face. 

Baekhyun would really like some backup on this one. He and Jongin aren’t really close yet, as Baekhyun’s late addition to the team cut something of a divide between them; a divide they have been patching up and crossing with tentative hands on knees and dessert playdates and laughing too hard at each other’s jokes but—and this is a big but—there is still some residual awkwardness lingering. So there is a gentle hesitancy to Baekhyun’s voice when he finally responds, breaking under the heaviness of the uncomfortable silence that hangs over them, “This is my room. We switched around, remember?” He sees Jongin’s eyes go in and out of focus, shiny in all the wrong ways. “Are you okay?” he adds, stepping forward.

Jongin’s eyelids flutter when he takes a step toward the other. “ _Mmnuhhaaah… no_ ,” he answers honestly, swaying on his feet. 

Stepping forward, Baekhyun tries to steady Jongin with instinctively protective arms reaching out to hold him up. His palm meets the film of sweat that acts as a gross forcefield between the rest of the world and Jongin’s overheated body, but Baekhyun braves it with impressive determination. 

“Are you sure this isn’t my room?” mumbles Jongin distractedly, trying for a smile but wobbling into Baekhyun. 

Panicking, Baekhyun grasps at him as Jongin’s whole body goes a bit slack, slumping against him. Baekhyun is hapless, looking to Chanyeol beseechingly but his roommate is out cold with his cell phone slowly inching its way off his cheek. All but passing out in Baekhyun’s arms, Jongin is a heavy deadweight on his poor hyung. Flushed cheek rests tiredly on Baekhyun’s bare shoulder and he can feel them burning against his own skin, moving with a barely audible apology as he’s still trying his best to hold him up. He half-carries, half-drags the limp load over to his bed, not-so gently dropping him down on the mattress.

Instantly, Jongin curls up on the bedspread like a tuckered-out kitten. Arms akimbo, Baekhyun looks down exasperatedly at his unexpected patient, now fast asleep. “Okay,” he says with a determined nod. 

With that, he slips out of the room to the kitchen. There he fetches a fever reducer, that vitamin C stuff Junmyeon always recommends (forces on them), and a glass of water for the poor guy. Tomorrow he’ll tell their manager and take him to a doctor; he grimaces briefly at the thought that Jongin will probably have to go on antibiotics. He’s not going to like that one bit.

“Hey,” whispers Baekhyun softly when he gets back, setting down the glass of water to use his free hand to card through Jongin’s hair. “Jongin-ah. Jonginnaaah.” He doesn’t stir, so Baekhyun strengthens his grip, pulling gently at the strands. 

Jongin’s lips part, a quiet, breathy moan escaping past them but his eyes remain closed. 

Baekhyun swallows thickly at the reaction, changes tactics and shakes his shoulder. “Jongin-ah, I brought medicine.”

Finally, Jongin’s eyes shutter open but it takes a long time for him to move so Baekhyun helps him sit up. He downs the water in one go, dehydrated, but gracelessly grabs at Baekhyun’s arm when he offers to get him more. His hand slips on Baekhyun’s wrist, holding his hand like a child. 

“Do I have to leave?” he asks, staring at the floor.

Sighing, Baekhyun doesn’t answer his question directly, just says, with authority: “Scooch.”

Jongin smiles a very small, almost secret smile before he moves over. Baekhyun pulls the covers over the both of them, sharing the one pillow between them. Jongin cuddles up to Baekhyun like he’s not highly contagious or fire-hot, arm wrapped comfortably around his hyung’s waist before passing out. 

Before falling asleep himself, Baekhyun smooths the unconscious Jongin’s hair back out of his sweaty face again, muttering, “But don’t make a habit out of this.”

 

**_2\. you need a light, I'd find a match_ **

 

Jongin makes a habit out of it. Seeking comfort from Baekhyun becomes second-nature to him. True, he’s quick to needily snuggle up to anyone near when he’s sleepy or hurting, but it’s Baekhyun’s bed he always seems to end up in. 

It’s normal for everyone to dote on him when he’s sick, all in their own way. Kyungsoo is usually the one to take care of him so much to the point where an ordinary person would feel smothered. Junmyeon pushes vitamins on him like some ragged salesman who owes his bookie a lot of money. Chanyeol will make him dinner, if he has time, gently clapping a hand on his back if he doesn’t. If he’s not too exhausted himself, Yixing will float over him with wriggling fingers and add sound effects, claiming he’s “healing” him until Jongin’s even more sore from laughing. Yifan would leave a glass of water and cold medicine next to wherever he ended up passed out. Even maknae Sehun worries and paces around distractedly, sending little, concerned frowns at Jongin as if whatever sickness in him has wronged Sehun personally. They’ve all been there for him.

But it’s Baekhyun who’s with him through it. He makes him tea and orders him ginseng chicken soup (“Hyung, I asked for _chicken_ , fried chicken, not soup!”) and strokes his hands through his hair and holds him through the night. If Jongin can’t sleep then neither can he—much to their manager’s frustration when he finds them one night in the living room playing video games with bunched-up used tissues strewn about. 

True, Jongin is a whiny baby when he’s sick, but he’s always gracious, always thankful, always apologetic. So much so that when they’re both cleaning up after the well-deserved scolding from their manager, and Jongin won’t stop apologizing to Baekhyun, he finally has to tell him to shut up (a very rare occurrence, considering it’s _Baekhyun_ ). He reminds Jongin of all the times he’s helped him when he wasn’t feeling well. Guiding him by the wrist through the airport during “Growl” promotions, bringing him hot lemon tea when he stays late at practice, et cetera, et cetera. 

“We’re even,” he tells him.

Jongin protests, of course—Baekhyun’s not sick nearly as often as he, and most of the time, it’s because Jongin’s germs infected him.

But every time Baekhyun comes home to find Jongin in his bed, somehow, he doesn’t feel burdened.

 

**_3\. if you are chilly, here take my sweater_ **

 

Late nights at practice are routine for EXO. Some nights are longer than others, and a lot of the time they’re not all crowded in the same room. They’ve learned not to wait up for each other. Baekhyun is all but trained to know that if Jongin isn’t in his bed when he gets in it he’s not going to show up, even now that they’ve moved rooms again and he shares with Jongdae. So he’s surprised when Jongin stumbles into his room a quarter past one in the morning.

Groaning, Jongin flops onto the bed, landing almost entirely on Baekhyun where he’s in a deep sleep. He yelps at the rude wake up call, sitting up suddenly and almost whacking the intruder. 

“Sorry,” mumbles Jongin, rolling off of his startled bed buddy, but staying in a sitting position. His voice is scratchy and he’s sniffling.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, more out of exhaustion than annoyance. He scooches over in the bed to let Jongin get comfortable. “C’mere,” he mutters sleepily, pulling him closer by the nape of his neck. “Do you have a fever?” But he answers his own question by pressing his lips to Jongin’s forehead. 

He doesn’t, and they’re both too tired to be embarrassed by the kiss. Instead, Jongin hums sweetly, hands cupping Baekhyun’s elbows as if to hold him closer.

Then Baekhyun points at the mattress to indicate that Jongin should lie down, already lying back down himself, eyes closed. “Sleep,” he prescribes. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Jongin doesn’t lie down right away, the fog in his head clearing somewhat. When he does, he puts his hand right next to Baekhyun’s, barely brushing the curled knuckles with the back of his own. It’s a few minutes later when, for reasons he’s not really sure about himself, Jongin props himself up on and kisses him on the cheek—but only when he’s sure Baekhyun’s asleep. 

He isn’t. And when Jongin lies back down, he doesn’t see the grin that stretches Baekhyun’s lips.

 

Jongdae, Baekhyun’s now-roomie, is already up and at ‘em for an OST recording when Baekhyun wakes, tangled up in Jongin. His waist is crooked and creaking with Jongin’s arm underneath it, the other wrapped over and around him. Jongin’s head is using Baekhyun’s bent arm as a pillow. Their legs are locked together.

Baekhyun hardly moves at all, but still Jongin stirs, slowly opening his eyes to see the other’s smiling face. 

“Hi,” greets Baekhyun gently, dewy eyes crinkling. “Do you feel better?”

Jongin mumbles something that maybe is meant to be an answer but his mouth barely parts and only a hum comes. At least he can breathe without difficulty, but he looks worse for wear. His eyes are clogged with gunk, runny nose leaking, chapped lips cracked and dry. Even so, Baekhyun leans forward to press their foreheads together, the tips of their noses meeting.

“You look like shit,” he whispers fondly.

Jongin squeezes his eyes shut and hides his face in Baekhyun’s chest shyly, a keening whine muffled against him.

Baekhyun chuckles, chest rumbling deeply against Jongin’s cheek. “Why are you being so cute?”

“I’m not,” he mutters stubbornly. “I’m just cold.”

“You’re gonna get snot on my shirt,” admonishes Baekhyun, but he snakes his arms under and around him and squeezes all the tighter. “You know, you can join me when you’re not sick too. I get lonely sleeping by myself.” He adds mischievously, knowingly, “And you get cold.”

Jongin says nothing, only squeezes his arms around Baekhyun’s waist.

 

**_4\. your head is aching, I’ll make it better_ **

 

Days off and sleep-ins are rare in the EXO household, but Jongin emerging from Baekhyun’s room is a common sight by now. The gang, especially Baekhyun’s roommates, think nothing of it at this point. It’s after a long line of promotions, including their first world tour, when they finally have a moment to breathe. Anyone without solo work has slept in for once in their lives and Jongin does emerge from Baekhyun’s room but an hour later than everyone else. 

When Jongin squints his way toward him, Baekhyun is cooking some sort of brunch for the boys still in the house. He has to do most of his own cooking since being diagnosed with anxiety-induced gastritis, so as he sees it, he may as well share.

There’s a faint hint of five o’clock shadow around Jongin’s lips. Without contacts, he can only make out fuzzy shapes in front of him, and with navigation slurred by sleep he stumbles down the hall to get to the kitchen. No matter how many times Baekhyun, and fans, tell him he looks cute in glasses, he refuses to wear them even around the house. 

“Good morning!” Baekhyun sing-songs, twirling a spatula like a baton when he sees Jongin step into the kitchen.

Jongin squints harder, as if looking directly into the sun. “Mornin’,” he mumbles drowsily. He feels icky but attributes it to exhaustion. 

He passes Baekhyun on his way to the refrigerator, playfully pinching his side as he goes. Baekhyun squawks at the tickle, folding in half trying to trap Jongin’s hand between his elbow and waist. Jongin wriggles free, giggling. Affronted, he spanks Jongin’s ass with the spatula in retaliation. 

Jongin yelps, “That’s for food!” but is still laughing his big, open-mouthed guffaw when he reaches the fridge.

From the other side of the counter, holding hands under the table, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo exchange pointed looks. They know flirting when they see it.

Jongin trying to function in the morning is certainly a sight to behold, especially when his myopia only allows him to see about 3 inches in front of him. He picks up every juice jug in the fridge to inspect it closely before he finally settles on the right one. Finding a cup is a much easier process, but his depth perception, or lack thereof, isn’t doing him any favors. 

When he does retrieve the cup, he overshoots the counter and whacks his knuckles against the edge. Before he can even cry out at the sudden pain, Baekhyun is by his side.

“You okay?” he asks, holding his hand gingerly and inspecting the damage.

Involuntary tears spring but Jongin defiantly answers, “Yes.”

Baekhyun is not convinced. He pulls his gaze away from the war wound to look into Jongin’s watery eyes. He grins before teasing, “Want me to kiss it better?” But he doesn’t wait for an answer, just goes for it. His lips are gentle against Jongin’s heated skin.

Stuttering, Jongin pushes him away. “I said I’m fine!” he protests, face redder than his stinging fingers. 

Baekhyun is still grinning, happy to be shoved back to his place in front of the stove. “Good! Now put on your glasses or contacts before you hurt yourself again. I’ll kiss you all over if I have to!”

Huffing, Jongin flounces off to the bathroom.

Chanyeol applauds at Jongin’s exit and Baekhyun nearly jumps clean out of his skin as he had completely forgotten about their captive audience. “You’ll make a good wife someday, ByunBaek,” he comments.

“ _Husband_ , thank you very much…” he corrects primly without missing a beat.

 

When Jongin reaches the bathroom, that ill feeling from when he first woke up surges up in him again. A wave of queasiness hits him, stomach lurching unpleasantly. The irony of feeling this sick so soon after the start of his first real vacation in what feels like ages is not lost on him. 

After a few measured breaths, staring himself down in the mirror to will himself from being sick in the sink Jongin uncharacteristically opts for glasses. He decided he’s probably going to need to sleep this off and he already accidentally nods off with his contacts in too often. He just has to make it through the day, he tells himself.

He barely does. After distractedly pushing around Baekhyun’s breakfast but not really eating any of it, he suffers the rest of the day in bed staring at his phone and intermittently holding his breath fighting waves of nausea. It’s not until nightfall when he finally gives up the ghost, frantically dashing to the toilet. Only after voraciously brushing his teeth does Jongin crawl into Baekhyun’s bed.

Baekhyun hums a quiet question in his throat, opening an eye to Jongin. Recently, Jongin’s taken him up on his offer to come sleep in Baekhyun’s bed when he’s not sick too, but he’s looking a little greener than usual now. “What’s wrong?” he whispers urgently.

“Headache,” mumbles Jongin miserably. “And a stomachache.” It’s not a lie. Just an understatement.

“Did you take something?” asks Baekhyun, propping himself up on his elbow. With his other hand, he places his palm comfortably over Jongin’s tummy.

Jongin nods sheepishly, idly fidgeting with Baekhyun’s fingers. The other watches him, searching Jongin’s face when he doesn’t close his eyes to sleep. “What?” he asks, lips lifting in a curious smile as he inclines his head toward him. He turns his palm over under Jongin’s hands, letting their fingers tangle up in each other.

Jongin is quiet a moment, thinking back to that morning. He’s staring down at their hands. His finger didn’t bruise, and he thinks, impossibly, it was because Baekhyun had kissed it. He starts to wonder, after all these years of hiding from illness beneath the covers with him, what Baekhyun’s power of healing really is. 

“I was thinking, maybe, you could…” he begins, but he doesn’t know how to put it. “What you did, earlier…” 

The soft smile turns into a hard smirk, cocking his head to the other side. “You want me to kiss it better?”

"Kissing helps,” replies Jongin, a little too quickly. He adds hastily with a shaky grin, “It’s science.” 

Baekhyun snorts, but his voice comes out breathier than normal when he speaks. “Where does it hurt?”

At a loss, Jongin’s hands freeze, throat dry. 

Baekhyun can feel the tension in Jongin’s whole body, grip tightening on his fingers. They both know they’re on the brink of something neither of them can really define; it feels like a big deal—which is decidedly strange for Baekhyun, someone who gives out kisses like they’re free candy. He doesn’t know why this is different, just that he does really, really want to kiss Jongin. He grins gently, and lightly presses his lips to Jongin’s temple. “Your head?” he whispers.

Jongin nods silently but enthusiastically, mouth slightly agape. One hand leaves Baekhyun’s, using the now free hand to point at the middle of his forehead. 

Rolling his eyes fondly, Baekhyun obliges, giving Jongin’s brow an overdramatic, loud smacking kiss. 

Embarrassed but pressing on, Jongin points at the bump on his nose. Truthfully, it’s not a sinus headache but Baekhyun doesn’t need to know that. 

He looks skeptical but plays along, pecking him sweetly on the nose. 

Tentatively, eyes darting between Baekhyun’s eyes and his mouth, Jongin then touches his finger to his own lips. His eyes are full of a wondrous, childlike hope that Baekhyun doesn’t want to disappoint him at all (and he wouldn’t be Byun Baekhyun if he said no to a kiss), but he still gives him a mock-withering look of disbelief.

“They’re… uh, kind of chapped,” explains Jongin. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, laughing, but he can’t deny Jongin. When their lips meet, Jongin’s finger is still caught between their chins. He giggles, teeth clacking against Baekhyun’s, but he moves to caress Baekhyun’s cheek, pulling him close. He buries himself in the kiss. Baekhyun laces their fingers together, tilting his head and parting his lips to deepen it. His tongue slips against Jongin’s, whose stomach swoops, pleasantly thrilling, butterflies fluttering—but also bringing on another wave of nausea. 

Mercifully, Baekhyun breaks the kiss without Jongin having to find an excuse.

Breathless, he teases, “Anywhere else?” His lips are a redder shade of pink than normal, eyes alight.

Jongin swallows. “I have a sore throat?”

Smirking, Baekhyun says, “Liar,” but still dips his head and latches his mouth and tongue on Jongin’s Adam’s apple. 

Jongin’s chest rises under Baekhyun’s hand, angling back to give Baekhyun an all-access pass to his neck. 

Then, Baekhyun goes rogue. He meanders down the length of Jongin’s neck, lightly nipping at the jut of his clavicle, brushing past the collar of his shirt, and smooching his abdomen through his shirt. “Stomach ache,” he offers in explanation, snickering at the thunderstruck look on the other’s face.

But then Jongin’s insides heave. He clamps his lips shut, holding his breath and hoping Baekhyun didn’t notice.

He did. “You okay!?” he exclaims, face falling.

“I… uh,” he starts, having to swallow another uncomfortable, nauseated shiver. “No.” He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Baekhyun, too embarrassed. "I threw up," admits Jongin shamefully. “Earlier. I’m still queasy.”

“Oh my god, roll on your side,” instructs Baekhyun, bodily moving him so his back is facing him. He rubs his knuckles under Jongin’s tense shoulders, massaging a soothing calm back into him. 

“I’m sorry,” whines Jongin, so humiliated and upset it makes him feel _sicker_ but loving what Baekhyun is doing with his hands.

“Shh, shh,” hushes Baekhyun warmly, nuzzling the space between Jongin’s shoulder blades. “You’re fine. Just take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Baekhyun unfortunately knows a thing or twenty about feeling sick to your stomach. 

Jongin listens carefully to Baekhyun’s even breathing, using it as a guide. He focuses on the feeling of Baekhyun’s breath warming his back, lets it wash over him and drown out the loud anger of his stomach.

He feels Baekhyun’s lips form a smile before he speaks: “At least you brushed your teeth before kissing me.”

Jongin muffles his laugh, covering his face with his hands and groaning something that sounds like _‘msorry_.

“Stop apologizing,” says Baekhyun, scratching lightly against Jongin’s back. 

Jongin melts into the touch, humming. He falls asleep with Baekhyun’s lips against the bump at the start of his spine.

 

**_5\. 'cause I love the way you say good morning_ **

 

They become more candid with their kisses; no more excuses or roundabout reasons. Just… whatever this thing is between them. They take care of each other, that’s all they know.

By now, there’s been another deck-shuffle of rooms: Baekhyun gets the lonely fold-out couch in the living room to accommodate his gastritis and sleepless nights, Yixing moves from the manager’s room (leaving an empty bed during his busy extra-EXO schedules), and Jongin ends up with in a top bunk in Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s room. The latter two share Kyungsoo’s bed most nights, and often those are the nights Jongin finds himself sprawled and drowsy on Baekhyun’s fold-out. They’ve settled like leaves in autumn, comfortable with where they have fallen.

The day after the [dot] concerts, the heaviness of coming down from a high makes its way through their bones. Jongin tries to ignore it, dull aches throbbing through him in waves of disappointment and the bodily pain of his ankle injury. 

There has been some more rearranging after Jongin’s injury at the end of EXO’luXion; the entrance to his room becoming a revolving door of well-meaning do-gooders checking in on him and making him feel loved and appreciated while simultaneously making him feel all the more like shit. He has all the love he could ever ask for under one roof but he still wants his mom, he wants to stop being such a burden, and most of all he wants his damn ankle to be healed. And, admittedly, he wants to be able to crawl under the covers of Baekhyun’s bed and pretend nothing else in the world exists but his warmth. But Baekhyun comes to him this time, usually switching with Kyungsoo and Chanyeol on nights where the pain is too much for slumber. Those nights Jongin squeezes his arms around Baekhyun so tight he can hardly breathe, so tight Baekhyun has to be careful not to accidentally brush against Jongin’s hurt ankle, so tight it stirs something in Baekhyun that was previously unknowable, terrifying and exhilarating. 

Jongin tries not to feel helpless or regretful, focusing on healing and studying the new songs for their Japanese comeback. He sits and he sits and he sits. His hands do the dancing for him, on his thighs, any nearby surface, Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders and hips. It’s an obnoxious, cute habit he picked up from the overactive, hyper-tactile Baekhyun, one that makes the latter scrunch his face in a round-cheeked eye-smile whenever he sees (or feels) Jongin do it. Originally it was one of those habits that would give Jongin a reason to hold his hand when he got out of control with his fidgeting. 

The two exchange such habits like they exchange beds. And kisses. Kisses that keep Jongin grounded in something other than pain, other than chagrin. So Baekhyun stays beside Jongin, and grounds himself too.

That night they carefully fit together in Jongin’s too-small bed in his too-big room, empty of his roommates. It’s an early night, the heaviness pulling down their eyelids mid-speech. Baekhyun is talking dreamily to a near-comatose Jongin, resting his parted lips against Baekhyun’s bicep, about how far he’s gotten in his overhaul of Dragon Ball binge-watching when he finally slurs his way to slumber. And he doesn’t wake up until the early morning, long before the sun.

To Jongin rutting against him.

Baekhyun instantly feels himself get hot all over. Sweat beads on his forehead, breathing shallow because _he knows what that is_ : the press of Jongin’s hot urgency against his curve of his hip. His lips brush against Baekhyun’s ear, moans felt rather than heard and cooling over the sweat on his neck. It’s damp under the covers now, Jongin’s precum leaking through both their pajamas and his exposed skin slick under Baekhyun’s arm. A groan so quiet it hardly registers sneaks past Baekhyun’s parted lips as heat peaks in his belly, coiling tightly like a spring in anticipation of his own hard-on and he thinks, maybe, he should be mortified. And in a way he is, absolutely, because he knows he should wake Jongin up—but he doesn’t want this to end either.

He feels used, his body now a vehicle for whatever sexual gratification aligns with the fantasy playing out in Jongin’s dreamscape. But he can’t say he minds too much, either. _Of_ use, is more like how he feels. Jongin has felt rotten for days now, he probably needs this. Baekhyun might need it a little too… 

Before Baekhyun can sort through the moral minutia of getting off to a friend grinding on you in his sleep, Jongin opens his eyes. Baekhyun winces as they go wide in horror. He can almost feel the jolt of humiliation-induced adrenaline suddenly pumping through Jongin’s veins.

“Oh my god,” he rasps, burying his face against Baekhyun’s arm. “Oh my _god_.”

“Yeah,” laughs Baekhyun at the absurdity of the situation. “You were sleep-humping.”

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” whines Jongin. He tries to get up, mumbling something about a cold shower, but he’s on the wrong side of the bed against the wall. Moving means crawling over Baekhyun, and in the process his dick brushes against Baekhyun’s waist.

Baekhyun can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the feeling. Horrified, Jongin slumps back to the bed, as if trying to sink into the mattress to another world entirely.

“Jongin-ah,” says Baekhyun as firmly as he can, voice weak and cock hard. When Jongin doesn’t reveal his face hidden behind his arms, Baekhyun repeats himself, stronger this time. 

Meekly, Jongin peeks from between his forearms. Baekhyun puts a hand on his wrist, prying him out of hiding and pulling the hand to rest on his chest. Carefully, Baekhyun watches Jongin’s eyes as he slowly moves Jongin’s hand down the length of his torso, past the sheets. Their joined hands rise and fall with Baekhyun’s breathing, growing faster now.

“My head is spinning,” admits Baekhyun, “but that’s not a bad thing.”

He licks his lips, eyes asking the question for him. Baekhyun is hesitant to say it out loud, if this is what Jongin wants; for all he knows, Jongin could have been dreaming about anyone. It could have nothing to do with Baekhyun at all. But Jongin mirrors the action as he stares, looking back and forth between Baekhyun’s expression and their hands. He guides him further, over his pajamas so that Jongin can feel the heat he too has for him. 

Jongin’s eyes widen, biting his lip when he palms Baekhyun through the fabric. 

Trying not to unravel under Jongin’s hungry gaze and touch, Baekhyun whispers, “You don’t have to go.” _You belong here, in my bed._

Leaning forward, Jongin maneuvers his hand past the waistband of Baekhyun’s bottoms and wraps his fingers around his cock, presses his own against the other’s hip again, and kisses him with more urgency than he ever has. Baekhyun breathes deeply through his nose, reveling in his scent and holding Jongin’s face in his hands. 

Again, the kiss grounds Jongin, pulling him down, sinking in Baekhyun.

When the kiss is broken, Jongin peppers Baekhyun’s cheeks making a trail to his ear mole to the sensitive skin just below the lobe. Baekhyun’s breath hitches, hands slipping through Jongin’s hair while just the heat of his breath against his neck is enough to set him off with a moan. Jongin smiles into the nuzzle, glancing down at Baekhyun’s cock where it peeks out of the hem of his boxers, pink and cute. He squeezes his hand up the length, milking precum dribbling in a pool below his belly button. Jongin grunts at the sight, trying his best to move against him for relief of his own.

Jongin stays focused on Baekhyun’s neck, knowing it’ll drive him wild. It’s no secret, that’s always been Baekhyun’s weak spot. Panting, Baekhyun turns his head toward Jongin, cheek to cheek now and mouthing at any skin he can get to. He slides fingers down over Jongin’s collar bones, thumbing and pinching at his bare and pert nipples. Jongin whimpers at his touch. 

Sighing Baekhyun’s name, Jongin noses down his neck, pushing up his shirt with his free hand. He silently laments the previous softness of Baekhyun’s tummy but doesn’t mind the way the new muscled ridges of his abdomen clench beneath his palm. Baekhyun hisses when Jongin’s lips close around a nipple, teeth teasing. He grins against his chest, a little smug at the reaction. Baekhyun retaliates with an insistent tug at Jongin’s hair, a deep, pleasured groan replacing Baekhyun’s nipple in his mouth. 

His hand on Baekhyun’s cock quickens, making the latter’s back arc off the bed. Jongin tries to kiss him but misses when Baekhyun cries out, smooch landing on his chin. Baekhyun’s responding laugh turns into a series of stuttered gasps at Jongin’s relentless movements.

Jongin tries to hush him through laughter of his own, smile getting the better of him before his mouth covers his for real this time and he swallows his moans.

“Jongin! _Jongin_!” he gasps, so close it feels like fire in his veins. He grips onto Jongin’s shoulder, nails digging in.

Jongin’s hips snap faster. His breath comes harsh against Baekhyun’s throat, as he tries to awkwardly pull down his pants one-handed. The hot, soft skin of Jongin’s cock against his bare abs sets him off, a broken sound falling from his lips as he comes on his own chest. Each wave of ecstasy coincides with a whimper pressed into Jongin’s hair. 

Grinning, Jongin brackets his hands on either side of him, thrusting against the slickness of Baekhyun’s belly. Cradling Jongin’s neck gently, Baekhyun smiles sleepily up at him, droopy eyes crinkling fondly. 

“I’ve wanted this,” confesses Jongin, barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you.”

Baekhyun beams, thumb affectionately stroking the hinge of the other’s jaw. “You have me.”

Jongin kisses him again, sloppy and sweet. His mouth falls open against him as his hips pick up speed, voice growing in higher pitch. Giddy in his post-orgasm high, Baekhyun tries to shush him with a finger against his plush lips. The walls aren’t exactly thick in the EXO household. Jongin’s eyes fall closed, leaning into Baekhyun’s hand as it slips down his chin. 

Watching Jongin come is a beautiful sight to behold. His breathing quickens, moving erratically against Baekhyun’s abs. His lips curl back in a hiss, eyes hazy. When the orgasm crests, Jongin’s moan breaks in his throat and his elbows give out, all but collapsing on top of Baekhyun. His back arcs against him, head hanging between his shoulders as his hips slow, throbbing dick trapped between their chests. 

It’s a mess. Cum smears all over both their torsos as Jongin rests his cheek against Baekhyun’s collar. Baekhyun giggles cutely, rubbing his nape. Jongin peels away from Baekhyun after leaving a wet kiss on his pec, grimacing at the sight. Baekhyun, however, can’t stop grinning. It’s gross, but he kind of likes the way their cum overlaps and mixes on his chest, no knowing whose is whose like some kind of cheesy (and nasty) metaphor about being one.

Without fanfare, he pulls his shirt up and off the rest of the way over his head to wipe he and Jongin off. Blinking sleepily, Jongin lets Baekhyun take care of him like he always does. Jongin gasps and grabs the other’s arm when Baekhyun reaches his dick, overwhelming stimulation suddenly zapping through him. Baekhyun scrunches up his face in apology and, despite Jongin wrinkling his nose, leaves the shirt crumpled on the floor.

His expression softens, voice even softer when he props himself above Baekhyun. "I'm glad I have you,” he murmurs. He traces over the lines of Baekhyun’s chest, still a little sticky. "You have me too. If you'll take me."

Baekhyun pretends to think about it, pressing his fingers to his lips in mock contemplation. "Hmmm." Jongin hits him on the chest, laughing and shaking his head. “Kidding! I’m kidding.”

When Jongin is satisfied, he settles against Baekhyun, who presses a kiss into his hair. 

“Good night,” he says sweetly.

Smiling, cheek shyly resting against Baekhyun’s shoulder, Jongin notices the sun creeping in through the window and corrects him, “Good _morning_.”

Baekhyun can’t help but kiss him again.

 

**_1\. and you take me the way I am_ **

 

While Baekhyun isn’t necessarily a pillar of health, it’s rare that he get colds. Usually he gets them from Jongin, if at all. But he hasn’t had anything as bad as this since “Wolf” promotions. It’s a nasty combination of a stomach bug _plus_ Baekhyun’s already pre-existing gastritis; the 38.something degree temperature is the cherry on top of this shit sundae. He was already overheated and woozy from the start of their “Coming Over” shooting, all but collapsing by the end.

On the ride home, he curls up against Jongin in the very backseat, breath shallow. In the limbo of sleep and wakefulness, the fever sweetspot, Baekhyun only hums in half-recognition when Jongin presses a soft kiss to his temple.

"You have a fever," murmurs Jongin, shocked and worried but keeping his voice even.

" _I’ve got jungle fever_ ," he mumble-sings the Stevie Wonder song in English, tugging at Jongin’s arm to reposition his cheek against his shoulder. “ _We’ve got jungle fever, we’re in love_.”

Jongin kisses his forehead again, smoothing Baekhyun's hair back to double-check the heat there.

 

When they get home, Baekhyun stays in Jongin’s bed like when his ankle was hurt. Jongin hovers over him like an overbearing helicopter parent, wringing his hands.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. “Can I get you anything?”

Slowly, Baekhyun shakes his head, gentling Jongin’s worried hands when he frees his arm from his blanket cocoon. He rubs his thumb over the back, swinging Jongin’s hand in his. He gives a little tug, beckoning him to lie in the bed like Baekhyun has for him so many times before. But Jongin doesn’t play ball, hand sweaty in his.

Panicky, Jongin drops his hand and mutters, “I’ll make tea.” Before Baekhyun can protest he flees from the room to the kitchen.

He’s been worried about Baekhyun for a while now. What with shooting for the drama and EXO-CBX “Hey Mama!” promotions and CF’s and concerts, he’s been spreading himself thin. Jongin just wants to do something, make him magically feel better somehow. It’s been two years since Baekhyun was diagnosed with gastritis and Jongin still has a hard time seeing him ill.

When he reaches the kitchen, Minseok already has the kettle on as he leans against the fridge. Jongin shifts uncomfortably on his feet as he waits, a nervous little dance. Minseok eyes him, a look of concern on his face. Jongin answers with a noncommittal shrug.

Minseok takes his ill-advised late-night coffee and goes when Jongin tries to make tea, head so foggy and worried he actually forgets _how_ for several moments.

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo sit on the futon in the adjoining living room, wrapped up in each other and watching some drama as he makes himself busy waiting for the tea to steep. On Kyungsoo’s right and closer to the kitchen, Chanyeol has his arm comfortably snaked around Kyungsoo’s waist, fingers tangled in his and fiddling with the matching ring he gave him. With his head comfortably rested on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, Chanyeol distracts himself watching Jongin fret over the tea.

“Sugar, sugar…” he mumbles to himself. He looks to Chanyeol. “And honey, right? For his throat?”

“And the taste,” replies Chanyeol.

“Lots of it?”

Chanyeol smirks, turning his attention back to the TV. “More honey than tea.”

When Jongin comes back, Baekhyun grins fondly up at him. “Hey,” he greets, but his voice is wrecked.

Jongin holds back his wince, setting down the steaming mug on the bedside table. 

Baekhyun sighs. “Thanks, but you know I can’t drink tea.”

“Ugh.” Jongin’s eyes fall closed, sitting down heavily beside him on the mattress. Gastritis. Of course he can’t drink tea. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures, hand on his again. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Jongin smiles but his eyes are serious. “Scooch,” he says quietly.

Baekhyun does, rolling over onto his side. Jongin slides in behind him, an arm slinging over the dip of his waist. Fingers cold, he splays them under Baekhyun’s tee, soothing his overheated belly. He leans fully into him, soft lips pressed to his ear, neck, and his jaw until he lays his head down, tip of his nose kissing his nape.

Baekhyun smiles on the other end of this affection. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I forgot,” mumbles Jongin.

“Forgot what?”

“That you need to be taken care of sometimes too,” he admits, sighing. “I’m not doing a very good job.”

“You’re doing fine,” assures Baekhyun, patting his hand. And all over again it’s Baekhyun taking care of his dongsaeng, even when he’s this sick.

“Sleep,” whispers Jongin, pushing his lips to Baekhyun’s neck. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Hearing his own words of comfort said back to him is not lost on Baekhyun. Giggling, he fake-gripes, “It’s gonna be too hot with you here.”

“Sleep,” he repeats. So Baekhyun does, drifting off feeling safe and happy and warm, rather than the uncomfortable heat of whatever sickness is inside him.


End file.
